


Untitled (Suggestions welcome)

by Alliemackenzie28



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Wyatt Logan, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:31:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alliemackenzie28/pseuds/Alliemackenzie28
Summary: Rufus fixes the Lifeboat, Lucy takes care of Wyatt, Wyatt just focuses on breathing. Unbeta'd





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Warnings: graphic descriptions of injuries, sickness, and medical procedures. I'm happy to give more specifics if you'd like them! Leave a comment or shoot me an email at alibraryinmyhead@gmail.com
> 
> 2\. This is unbeta'd in the extreme- I didn't even read through it before posting. I really just wanted to finish it so I could write H50. If you see a mistake or something that doesn't make sense, you can let me know, but please be gentle, cause I have depression and it criticizes me quite enough as it is. (:
> 
> 3\. Come find me on tumblr @alliemackenzie28

1745 sucks. They came to get hold of a key that they’re pretty sure will open a box that they hope contains a map that they think might lead them… somewhere. Rufus’ brain doesn’t have room for that right now, because right now they’re getting shot at by group of very angry, very well armed people that sort of look like pioneers, and their only cover is a partially-rotten log that they’re all crammed behind while Wyatt comes up with an escape plan. They’re in what would eventually be the outskirts of Richmond, Virginia, on the southern bank of the James River, making their way towards the Lifeboat, which is only about a mile away.  
As the angry mob gets closer, Rufus realizes with a start that some of them are armed with crossbows. And longbows. He even sees a couple pitchforks in the crowd. Wyatt’s advice to pretend like he’s being chased as a motivation for running on the treadmill is suddenly a hell of a lot more motivating. The soldier, crouched next to him, gives a hand signal that’s easily interpreted as “run that way” before popping up from behind the log to shoot over the crowd’s head. Rufus is glad he’s not actively trying to kill any of the villagers, because he’s pretty sure most of them have no idea what’s going on.   
Flynn’s cronies had damaged the lifeboat almost immediately after they’d landed, and their mission had quickly switched from finding the key to just getting home. They’d followed a path that neither Rufus nor Lucy could see to the nearest village so they could at least gather some information before returning to their own time. A shopkeeper had gotten fresh with Lucy, and Rufus had told him in no uncertain terms to leave her alone. Unfortunately for Rufus, 1745 Richmond was jam packed with wealthy white men of the worst kind. The man, ruddy hair flying, had slapped Rufus across the face hard enough to make him see stars. Unfortunately for the shopkeeper, Rufus had long ago learned not to take any crap from the narrow-minded idiots who thought they ran the world, and he hit him right back, sending the guy flying into his shelves of dried goods. Wyatt and the shopkeeper’s wife had come running when they heard the crash, colliding with each other as they both tried to get in the door at the same time. The woman had screamed, flapping her hands at Wyatt as he tried to keep her from falling, and her husband, only capable of seeing wrong if it was done to him or his, grabbed his gun.  
So here they were, flying through the underbrush, running from a literal mob of angry villagers, before they’d even had their morning coffee. Or tea. Or whatever. Awesome.   
Apparently the workouts he’d put them through were working, because by the time Wyatt stumbles into the clearing where the damaged Lifeboat sat, Rufus and Lucy are already there, leaning against the metal hull, and the crowd is starting to turn in a different direction. Relieved, he bends forward, clutching his right shoulder. At some point he’d taken a crossbow bolt to the chest, probably when he’d been turned around to fire warning shots at their assailants. Sliding to the ground against the side of the Lifeboat with a groan, Wyatt examines the wound. The fletching sits maybe a foot from his chest, but he can’t tell if it’s penetrated all the way though. Lucy kneels in front of him, eyebrows drawn together in concern.   
“Oh my god, Wyatt!” Her hands flutter around him and he smiles at her.  
“I’m alright, Lucy,” he reassures. “Just-” he leans forward- “is it out the back at all?” She smooths her hand over the right side of his back and shakes her head.  
“I don’t think so?”   
“Ok, ok. Rufus?” The programmer stands over them, still alert for danger. He’s never had training, but Wyatt knows he’d have made a great soldier if he’d chosen that direction. For now, though, Wyatt is grateful he’d chosen computers. “How long till the ‘boat can go home?”  
Rufus shakes his head. “Not tonight. We never got the wire.” Shit.   
“Ok, um…” Wyatt places his left hand on his chest, the bolt sitting between two fingers for stability before he gets up. Rufus puts a hand under his arm to help him, and Wyatt doesn’t protest. “We gotta get this thing outta me. Lucy, get that first aid kit. Rufus, um, want to build the fire?” They’d spent a lot of hours training- first aid, wilderness survival, language, and bits of everything from architecture to textiles- and Wyatt knew it was about to pay off.   
He feels like he got the wind knocked out of him and hasn’t quite gotten his breath back yet. Blood is soaking through his cotton jacket, so he gingerly extricates his left arm from the garment and tries to work it free from the arrow, but it just makes him see stars when the bolt scrapes bone. He’s so focused on trying to figure out if it’s a broadhead or not that he jumps painfully when Lucy plops down beside him. “How ya doing?” she asks, surprisingly cheerful.  
“I’ve got a piece of wood through my chest, how do you think I am?” Wyatt grumbles, giving her a little grin. She’s got the first aid kit open in front of her, and she’s pulling out supplies for stitching a wound.  
“No stitches yet.” Lucy looks confused. “Gotta get the arrow out first.” He digs through the kit with his right hand, keeping his left on his chest, and indicates what they’ll need. His hands are steady, and he’s unreasonably proud of the fact. Lucy gasps when Wyatt pulls out the scalpel.  
“Wh-what is that for?”  
“If it’s a broadhead you’ll have to cut it out. Trust me, we want this wound open. Bacteria likes dark and wet, so we give it air and light and I’ll be fine,” he say lightly. Lucy nods quickly, pulling out the tool and setting it in the pile of stuff she’s making on a petticoat she must have taken off. Rufus is observing them quietly while he builds a small fire and sets a pot of river water over it to boil. Again, Wyatt is thankful for the other man’s competence; they’re not out of water yet, but first aid takes a lot of it, and they don’t know how long they’ll be there. 

Lucy helps Wyatt out of his shirt, trying to be gentle as she widens the hole where the arrow punched through so she can get the shirt over the shaft. She’s very aware that she’s a little klutzy, and the last thing she wants to do is bump the arrow. The blood makes her queasy and a little dizzy, but she doesn’t puke or pass out, and she doesn’t seem to cause the soldier any more pain, so she decides she did ok. Wyatt seems out of breath as he gingerly lays down on the grass next to the fire. Rufus kneels next to her and they give each other what are clearly supposed to be reassuring looks.  
Lucy’s hands tremble as she hands Rufus the second headlamp. Wyatt is lying between them and the fire so they can see him clearly, and the light makes the sweat on his face stand out. He looks up at them, nods once, and sticks his leather belt between his teeth. Rufus wraps his hand around the arrow, gets a good grip, and pulls. There’s a little resistance, and the programmer has to shimmy it back and forth a little to get it loose, but then the shaft slides out smoothly, glistening red, into the firelight. The tip is missing. Rufus grimaces. “Ok, Wyatt, uh… I got the shaft part out, but…”  
“Head came off?” asks Wyatt. He nods without opening his eyes. “Keep going,” he grits out, voice tight with pain. Rufus shrugs, takes a deep breath, and digs two fingers straight into Wyatt’s bloody chest.  
To Lucy’s surprise, Wyatt doesn’t scream or cry out, just moans quietly, bites down on the belt, and digs his heels into the ground while they work. His knuckles are white where he’s gripping Lucy’s hand, and she wonders briefly if they’ll have to bandage her too.   
By the time the head is out, there are tear tracks through the dust and sweat on his temples. The soldier opens his eyes and looks at them for a moment before coughs tear through him. They start out dry but become harsh and wet, and Wyatt turns his head away and spits into the fire. When he turns back, there’s blood at the corner of his mouth. Lucy squeezes his hand a little tighter.  
It takes Rufus the better part of a day to fix the lifeboat. He works as fast as he can, but really there’s no way to speed up the tedious task of stripping and replacing wires and repurposing undamaged parts.

It’s warm out, fortunately. That afternoon, Wyatt lays in the shade of the ‘boat. They can hear gurgling with every breath, and the breaths are shallow and slow. Lucy kneeling in the grass next to him, making lunch and keeping an eye on the sick man. At first, Lucy had been frustrated that she couldn’t do anything to help fix the Lifeboat, but then Rufus had pointed out that Wyatt was much more calm when she was with him, and when he tried to get up to help Rufus or check out that noise he heard, he coughed, and the coughing fits were wearing him out, making his lips and cheeks go red at first and then fade to a grayish blue-pink. 

They get out one of the sturdy plastic trunks full of emergency supplies that always travel with them. Inside are MREs, more gauze, and three sleeping bags. Wyatt seems to breathe easier when he’s sitting up some, so they set the lid against the side of the container at an angle and lay Wyatt on it on his side so that he’s both slightly upright and in the recovery position that he’d showed them during one of their first aid classes. As it turns out, the position is really helpful, because almost as soon as Lucy steps away to pee in the woods, she hears Wyatt choking and gagging, coughing out another gout of blood, and then he goes quiet. She races back to him, fearful that he’s not breathing at all, but she finds him breathing easily, having spit all the blood out on his own. She stuffs a sleeping bag behind him to make sure he doesn’t roll onto his back.

Lucy just has to sit with Wyatt since fixing the ‘boat is a one-man job. She tells him about her sister and her mom and interesting facts from history. Sometimes when she looks down from watching Rufus for a minute, Wyatt’s eyes are open and he’s staring up at her, listening while she talks. She’s not sure if he understands what she’s saying, but he seems to be comforted by her presence, so she keeps talking, keeps her voice low and calm, and he eventually lets his eyes slid shut again.  
When the ‘boat is finally fixed, Rufus lets out a whoop of triumph and bounds over to where they’re sitting. Together, he and Lucy help Wyatt sit up, then stand. His knees give out as soon as he’s upright, and Rufus has to catch him under the arm to keep him on his feet. Together, they make their way towards the ‘boat, and it feels like a mile even though it’s only 50 feet or so. His gait sloppy and uneven, Wyatt walks on doggedly, one foot in front of the other, supported between Lucy and Rufus. Finally they make it, and he does his best to help them get him up it, but by that time he’s so out of it that they have to coach him through climbing up the ladder.

Wyatt drops into his seat, and sits there limply, head tilted back, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Lucy doesn’t miss Rufus’ tight-lipped look of worry as the soldier’s lips grow dusky and bluish. He’s totally pliant, allowing them to manipulate his arms into the straps and buckle him in without complaint or comment. Lucy straps herself in, thinking back to the time Wyatt did it for her and not caring to contemplate further on the reversal of their roles, and then Rufus is punching buttons and entering coordinates and the world slips away in a blur of color.  
Lucy’s seatbelt is already undone by the time the door of the Lifeboat opens. She sticks her head out. “Wyatt needs a doctor!” She hoped she’d never have to say that again. She and Rufus wedge themselves into the space next to the pilot’s seat as medics cram into the ‘boat. Wyatt is completely unresponsive as the medics unstrap him and pass him out to those outside.   
As soon as he’s on the waiting gurney, a short, broad man who seems to be the head medic checks Wyatt’s blood pressure and pulse and fiddles with the soldier’s hand for a moment. Then he calls out a series of numbers that sends the others into a flurry of activity. A woman with red-blond hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun steps up behind his head and covers his face with a mask. Attached to the mask is a hospital-blue plastic baloon which the medic compresses every few seconds, making Wyatt’s chest rise further than it has all day. After a few squeezes, that medic steps aside to make room for another, who wrenches Wyatt’s mouth open and firmly inserts a frighteningly long plastic tube into the soldier’s throat. Meanwhile, other medics are checking Wyatt’s blood pressure, hooking him up to several machines, cutting his clothes off, and Lucy has to look away.  
Rufus has gotten out of the ‘boat and is standing with Jiya, his face buried in her neck. Lucy can’t tell if he’s crying. She looks around, taking in the bigger scene for the first time, and she suddenly feels overwhelmed by the noise and activity. She wants…. She wants Wyatt.

Lucy and Rufus change right next to each other, back to back, practically ripping their clothes off. Lucy drives them to the hospital (cause hell if Rufus is gonna speed, you know what happens to black people that get pulled over by white cops? he says.), and they get to the hospital just as Wyatt’s getting admitted. The doctor says they can sit with him for a while, since they want to get him stabilized before they operate.  
He’s being poked and prodded and pumped full of drugs. Lucy sees him looking around with wide, confused eyes, and the shock that had held her at the door dissipates, letting her enter the room to sit at the head of his bed, out of the way. She can’t hold his hand because all the IVs are in his good arm and his bad side’s being worked on, so she strokes his hot forehead and wipes his eyes, pretending not to see the tears, and tells him about cause it’s all she can think of.   
He finally falls asleep or passes out, and Lucy and Rufus stand out in the hallway for long minutes, watching the doctors and nurses work. They spend the next four hours sitting in the hospital cafeteria over cold cups of coffee, talking about nothing, trying to distract themselves. Finally, Rufus, who is Wyatt’s emergency contact, gets a phone call from his nurse saying he’s out of surgery and back in his room.   
They’re sitting on either side of his bed when Wyatt wakes up. He blinks drowsily at the ceiling for a few moments, then drags his hand up towards his face and pushes clumsily at the oxygen mask, frowning. Taking his hand in hers, Lucy strokes his calloused palm, trying to distract him from the discomfort, and apparently it works, because the crease between his eyebrows disappears and he seems to relax a little. His eyes slide closed again and his teammates breathe a sigh of relief. He’ll be alright.


End file.
